potentials was filled by sons, grandsons, and great-nephews whose prevailing characteristic was their inability to say "no" to the female relatives in their lives.
It might sound like a wonderful quality until you understood that it also meant they were the kind of men who trusted older women to make so many of their decisions for them. They tended to wear Arnold Palmer golf sweaters in
Easter egg colors and flip-on sunshades over their glasses. They drove Lincoln Continentals with back seats roomy enough for Aunt Elizabeth's or Nana Mae's entire bridge foursome. They knew the early-bird specials on every menu in town.
They were nothing like Johnny Magee.
He shifted in his seat, redoubling her awareness of him. She sucked in another breath of his scented male warmth. No, they were nothing at all like Johnny Magee.
He watched the gypsy girl with impassive, sea-colored eyes. Then his masculine hand reached toward her flesh, flesh that was trembling despite the warmth of the fire. Fingertips curled over the edge of her filmy peasant blouse and drew it down, down, down
—
That hard male hand shot out to cover hers on the wheel, and jerked left. "Watch out."
She braked, just as a car pulled from a space in Stellar's congested lot and nearly into them if not for Johnny's quick reflexes. "Thanks," she croaked out, her face burning as red-hot as her fantasies. Somehow she'd dreamed all the way to Stellar and almost steered into a fender bender in the process.
She glanced over her shoulder, now even more embarrassed. "I don't know what I was thinking of… I meant to stop at the parking valet."
"No problem," he said. "Take the open spot right here."
His hand slipped away from hers but both the sensation of his touch and her self-consciousness lingered as they walked toward the restaurant. He held the door open for her and she brushed by him, raising a prickly set of goose bumps beneath the all-business fabric of her blue suit.
To remind herself that this
was
business, she took the lead at the reservations station, explaining to the inquiring hostess that they were just going into the lounge for a drink. It came as no surprise, though, that while she conducted this short transaction he went ahead and scored the last table in the expansive, but now standing-room-only bar. He was the type who would. With his arms stretched over the back of the cushions behind him, he appeared calm and relaxed as he watched her approach the far corner where he was waiting.
His gaze made her jittery again. As she threaded her way toward him, she couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at her.
A responsible-looking woman, she hoped he was musing. Competent, qualified. Detail-oriented.
And that's what he'd continue to see, Téa told herself. Marching forward, she squared her shoulders and set her spine as straight as a debits column. He wouldn't shake her all-business demeanor again.
Still four tables away, he smiled at her. A lazy smile.
What's she wearing beneath that boring little suit
? she thought she heard him say in her head.
His gaze flicked down to her legs.
And she's added to her armor with stockings now. What could she be trying so hard to hide?
Téa's stride hitched. She considered running back to her car. But then a white-shirted cocktail server strode up to the table. With her view of Johnny blocked, she shook her head, jarring loose the silly notion that she'd heard what he'd been thinking. That he'd been thinking anything the least bit personal about her.
This was business.
With that firmly in mind, she reached the chair across the table from him just as the waiter hurried off. "Pinot Grigio okay?" Johnny asked, his expression showing nothing more than friendly politeness. "The place is so crowded I was afraid he'd never make it back if I said I needed more time."
"Pinot Grigio's fine." She settled into her seat, then took a breath, paused.
His head tilted, blond hair brushing his collar. "Is something
It might sound like a wonderful quality until you understood that it also meant they were the kind of men who trusted older women to make so many of their decisions for them. They tended to wear Arnold Palmer golf sweaters in
Easter egg colors and flip-on sunshades over their glasses. They drove Lincoln Continentals with back seats roomy enough for Aunt Elizabeth's or Nana Mae's entire bridge foursome. They knew the early-bird specials on every menu in town.
They were nothing like Johnny Magee.
He shifted in his seat, redoubling her awareness of him. She sucked in another breath of his scented male warmth. No, they were nothing at all like Johnny Magee.
He watched the gypsy girl with impassive, sea-colored eyes. Then his masculine hand reached toward her flesh, flesh that was trembling despite the warmth of the fire. Fingertips curled over the edge of her filmy peasant blouse and drew it down, down, down
—
That hard male hand shot out to cover hers on the wheel, and jerked left. "Watch out."
She braked, just as a car pulled from a space in Stellar's congested lot and nearly into them if not for Johnny's quick reflexes. "Thanks," she croaked out, her face burning as red-hot as her fantasies. Somehow she'd dreamed all the way to Stellar and almost steered into a fender bender in the process.
She glanced over her shoulder, now even more embarrassed. "I don't know what I was thinking of… I meant to stop at the parking valet."
"No problem," he said. "Take the open spot right here."
His hand slipped away from hers but both the sensation of his touch and her self-consciousness lingered as they walked toward the restaurant. He held the door open for her and she brushed by him, raising a prickly set of goose bumps beneath the all-business fabric of her blue suit.
To remind herself that this
was
business, she took the lead at the reservations station, explaining to the inquiring hostess that they were just going into the lounge for a drink. It came as no surprise, though, that while she conducted this short transaction he went ahead and scored the last table in the expansive, but now standing-room-only bar. He was the type who would. With his arms stretched over the back of the cushions behind him, he appeared calm and relaxed as he watched her approach the far corner where he was waiting.
His gaze made her jittery again. As she threaded her way toward him, she couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at her.
A responsible-looking woman, she hoped he was musing. Competent, qualified. Detail-oriented.
And that's what he'd continue to see, Téa told herself. Marching forward, she squared her shoulders and set her spine as straight as a debits column. He wouldn't shake her all-business demeanor again.
Still four tables away, he smiled at her. A lazy smile.
What's she wearing beneath that boring little suit
? she thought she heard him say in her head.
His gaze flicked down to her legs.
And she's added to her armor with stockings now. What could she be trying so hard to hide?
Téa's stride hitched. She considered running back to her car. But then a white-shirted cocktail server strode up to the table. With her view of Johnny blocked, she shook her head, jarring loose the silly notion that she'd heard what he'd been thinking. That he'd been thinking anything the least bit personal about her.
This was business.
With that firmly in mind, she reached the chair across the table from him just as the waiter hurried off. "Pinot Grigio okay?" Johnny asked, his expression showing nothing more than friendly politeness. "The place is so crowded I was afraid he'd never make it back if I said I needed more time."
"Pinot Grigio's fine." She settled into her seat, then took a breath, paused.
His head tilted, blond hair brushing his collar. "Is something
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